


Company

by somebodys_dog



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Breathplay, F/M, M/M, Multi, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebodys_dog/pseuds/somebodys_dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between two strange and welcoming bodies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Company

Vetinari’s body was small. There was never any hiding that, really, and it wasn’t exactly a secret. But his robes were so a part of his image that to see the fragility beneath was always a shock. He was all skin and bones and unremarkable. Attractive enough – they wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t attraction, Vimes supposed. But the only thing he seemed to able to focus on at times like these were those eyes. How like Sybil’s they were. How, he had to guess, his own looked, at least sometimes. Usually all cold and calculations, but now wide, hungry.

Open.

Sybil’s body was full and all around him and so, so soft. She was all the clichés of how women should feel, but better. More varied. More mysterious. Heavy here, light there. Smooth and then not. A world of its own to explore. And she was always open, even when she was practicing modesty – always confident, always aware, and always inviting. She was home.

Vetinari was like foreign territory. Only suddenly he wasn’t, because he was here, and under Sam’s rough palms, so thin and half-gone but here, here as much as he ever could be in only one place. Vimes mapped him under fingertips deliberately, determinedly, and Vetinari laughed.

“Ever the policemen.”

Then Vimes’ hands were at his lips, his throat, bringing a little red, unresisting flush to the Patrician’s face. He felt an Adam’s apple bob beneath his hands, he felt Sybil’s soft lips at his temple, he felt Vetinari’s long, thin fingers around his wrists. He knew death was in those fingers, knew where Havelock was trained. And yet here he was, this powerful man, eyes half-fluttering, and a small, unfamiliar smile on his face.

And his mouth was on the Patrician’s, pushing in his own air, vibrating with someone else’s groan, eyes closing between two strange and welcoming bodies.

And he was really home, maybe for the first time.


End file.
